


An Accidental Audience

by IntrovertedEnigma



Category: Glee
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-11 19:27:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1176971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntrovertedEnigma/pseuds/IntrovertedEnigma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Burt decides to come home early from DC. Kurt and Blaine decide to take advantage of what they think is an empty house. Cue the inevitably awkward reprisal of the infamous father to son sex talk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Accidental Audience

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted on fanfiction.net. Note that this story takes place sometime between episodes 03x17 (Dance with Somebody) and 3x18 (Choke).

_Just find the files,_ you think to yourself as you drive down the street. _Just find those damn papers you misplaced, and then you can head straight to bed._ As grateful as you are for the fact that you managed to catch an earlier flight from DC, the jet lag is a bitch. But after your recent conversation with Kurt, you find yourself looking forward to Friday Night Dinner.

After all, before you know it, those dinners won't be the same anymore. There won't be any more of those amusingly petty arguments between your sons about Finn's continued video game addiction, Finn's general disregard for personal hygiene, Finn's constant state of oblivion, and Kurt's overall bitchy demeanor. Soon, it'll just be you and Carole at the dinner table. And Sam, if he continues to live in your guest room next year. And possibly Blaine, who seems to have become somewhat of a constant fixture in your household over the past few months.

As you continue to drive down the street while trying to blink the sleep away from your eyes, you vaguely register the fact that Blaine's car is parked further down the street, several houses away from the Hummel-Hudson (or “Hudmel”, as Finn insists on calling it) residence. You raise an eyebrow in suspicion at this for a moment before shrugging it off and chalking it up to Blaine having arrived at the house before anyone left for the day, making it impossible to park in the driveway with the other cars in the way. As you pull up to the house, you notice that Kurt's Navigator is the only car in the driveway. At first you wonder if your son is either sick or skipping school, but then you remember him saying something about an in-service day the last time you talked.

You pull up into the driveway and park your truck behind Kurt's “baby”. Then you head inside, only stopping briefly to pick up the fliers that had been dumped gracefully on the doorstep.

“Kurt? I'm home,” you call out as you take off your shoes and shut the door behind you. “Kid?”

Kurt doesn't respond, but you can hear his music booming from upstairs, so it's pretty safe to assume that he can't hear you. You figure that he's probably either working on some assignment for that Glee club of his or rehearsing a new number for his NYADA audition, which you know is coming up soon. You know better than to interrupt him while he's practicing, so you decide to wait for the music to stop before letting him know that you're home. In the meantime, you walk over toward the living room to see if you left those damned files of yours on the coffee table.

You don't find the files on the coffee table. Instead, you find a different piece of paper. Sitting next to a pair of headphones and an abandoned bowl of cereal is a note written in Finn's messy scrawl. You pick it up for further inspection.

_-Kurt_

_Off to Rachel's. I think Sam's gone to Mercedes'. We probably won't be back until after two, but for the love of God, PLEASE be done by the time we get home. We've both been scarred for life too many times already. Besides, you owe me after I covered for you last week. Later, dudes._

_-Finn_

You puzzle over Finn's note for a minute before ultimately deciding that it's probably better for your sanity if you leave it be. Then, seeing as you're already so close to the couch, you decide to put off your search for the files for now and give in to the exhaustion that has been threatening to take over since you got on the plane earlier that morning.

You're already drifting off into dreamland when you are startled by a suspicious-sounding _thump_ from Kurt's room upstairs. The noises quickly become more measured and rhythmic. You frown to yourself. You know that Kurt often practices his dancing when he's by himself, but aside from a short-lived tap dancing phase from his youth and the infamous “Single Ladies” incident, the noise factor in regard to his dancing has never been an issue before. As you contemplate this, you hear a noise that sounds oddly like a moan -

And the light bulb goes off.

_Shit._

Within seconds, you're sitting straight up on the couch, frozen. You aren't quite sure what to do. Your first instinct is to turn on the TV in an attempt to block out the sound. You fumble around for the remote for what seems like hours, trying your hardest to ignore the fact that the sounds are gradually increasing in volume. Finally, _finally,_ you pull the remote out from under the couch cushion that you are currently occupying.

“Oh, _god_. Fuck, Blaine.”

You drop the remote.

Kurt rarely resorts to such vulgarities, so for a moment, you find yourself slightly taken aback by his cursing. And hell, you sure as shit were also not aware that his normally high-pitched voice was capable of dipping down that low. You shudder inwardly. _God,_ you think, _this is your son_. Your son who, only a year ago, was incapable of merely having the word “sex” uttered in his presence without immediately turning the colour of a tomato and putting his fingers in his ears and singing at the top of his lungs.

The sound of another loud moan quickly shakes you out of your reverie. _Damn,_ you think to yourself, _why does sound have to carry so well in this house?_

In desperation, you grab Finn's headphones and hurriedly throw them on. You quickly realize that the headphones are not nearly as effective on their own as they would be if they were plugged into some sort of device.

“Fuck, Kurt, I need you now!”

“Oh, shit, _Blaine_! Oh, my god!”

_You are not hearing this. This is not happening. You are still in Washington, and this is just some horribly fucked up dream._

You tear off the utterly useless pair of headphones and fling them across the room. Then you do what you should have done the second you realized that was going on. You scramble to find your car keys and make a mad dash for the door. You manage to make it to the door in record breaking time, but not before a loud, drawn out cry reaches your ears (and god, if you were wondering earlier how Kurt's voice could possibly go that low, you really, _really_ don't want to think about what could make it go that high). Once you're finally back in your truck, you step on the gas pedal and head to the garage. With a shake of your head, you realize that at least you are no longer too exhausted to drive.

* * *

You arrive back at the house at a quarter to three, dreading the inevitably awkward reprisal of the infamous father to son sex talk of 2011. As you shut off the ignition, you notice that although Blaine's car is no longer anywhere in sight (thank god for that), Finn and Sam still seem to be missing as well. Kurt's car is in exactly the same place as it was a few hours ago, which means that he is the only one home and that you have absolutely no excuse for putting off the conversation. You and Kurt have had your share of uncomfortable discussions over the years (a certain incidence regarding a misplaced muscle magazine that you had the misfortune of finding a couple of years ago comes to mind), but there is no doubt in your mind that this impending discussion easily tops the list.

“Finn? You guys back already?” you hear Kurt call out.

You can do this. Slowly, you make your way into the kitchen. Kurt is sitting at the table, flipping idly through what is presumably the latest issue of Vogue. “Hey, kid,” you finally say.

Kurt whirls around. “Dad!” he exclaims as he puts down the magazine and stands up to give you a hug. “What are you doing here?”

“I'm here for our Friday Night Dinner,” you reply, managing to sound more casual than you'd expected. You head toward the fridge to grab yourself a beer while Kurt sits back down at the table

“Well, I hope you aren't too hungry yet, because Carole's working a bit later today, so we'll have to hold off on the dinner for a little while. Oh, and Finn, Sam and Blaine decided to go to Puck's to try out this new video game that Finn bought earlier, but they'll be back before dinner.” He smiles at you as you take a seat across from him. “So, how was your day?”

You attempt to disguise the grimace that involuntary makes its way onto your face. “Surprisingly eventful,” you manage to say. “Actually, Kurt,” _oh, here we go,_ “that's sort of what I want to talk to you about.” Again, you take a deep breath. “I didn't get here just now. I got home at about 10:15 this morning.”

At first, Kurt just stares at you, not comprehending. And then, you see the pieces slowly slide into place. You can pinpoint the exact moment that the realization finally dawns on him, because his face positively whitens, and his eyes grow comically wide. “Oh, shit,” he murmurs. He looks completely horrified. He's sitting there with one hand covering his mouth, completely frozen in place. “Oh, god.”

You try to lighten the mood. “Yep, I think I heard that one earlier, kid.”

“Dad!” he cries, his face reddening. Now his expression is a cross between completely horrified and utterly scandalized.

You take pity on him. “Look, Kurt,” you say, making sure to looking him straight in the eye, “I'm not upset with you.”

Kurt stares back at you in confusion. “But... what about all that stuff you said before?” It's your turn to look confused. “You know,” he continues, “about not being inappropriate in the house, and -”

“Inappropriate?” you say. “Kurt, I trust you, and I trust Blaine. You're both good people. You've been together for a while now, and it's obvious that you both love each other. What's inappropriate about that?” You shrug your shoulders. “I can't really say that I'm surprised. Frankly, I've been suspecting it for a while now.”

“So, you're not mad?” As I shake my head, Kurt's brow furrows. “Then... why did you bring it up in the first place? I mean, thanks for the talk, but I could have blissfully gone on with my life without the knowledge that my father overheard me having sex with my boyfriend.”

“Well,” you said, taking a sip of your beer, “as your father, I had to do the responsible thing and make sure that it was, you know, mutual -”

“Oh, my god, Dad, of course!”

“- and that you're being safe -”

“Yes, Dad!” Kurt's face is practically fuchsia again.

“- and that you're doing it for the right reasons.”

Kurt no longer looks indignant. “We are, Dad,” he assures you, his voice quiet but firm.

You glance at him. “The other reason why I wanted to have this conversation is because of me.” You let out a sigh. “You're my son, Kurt. My baby. It's sometimes hard for me to remember that you're practically an adult. I mean, look at you. You're in love. You're graduating from high school and going off to college soon. You're going to be living on your own. Look at how far you've come, Kurt.”

Kurt's expression softens. “Oh, Dad,” he says, reaching across the table to grab your hand.

You squeeze his hand quickly before continuing. “That's why I wanted to have this conversation with you, man to man. First of all, I'm glad that you and Blaine were both sensible enough to be here instead of at a public place or the backseat of a car or someplace where you could have been caught by the wrong person.”

At this, Kurt's gaze shifts downward as he fixes his eyes on the table. You wince inwardly. “Really, Kurt? Really?”

“It was only one time!” Kurt protests. “And really, Dad, you don't need to worry about it. Blaine and I talked it over, and we agreed that at least while we're still in Lima, we're going to confine any romantic rendezvous to the privacy of our own homes. I don't want to give those Neanderthals another reason to torment Blaine while I'm gone next year,” he says darkly.

You purposely choose not to think of the implications of _at least while we're still in Lima_. “Actually, Kurt, that brings up my next point. I'm glad that the two of you were respectful enough to make sure no one was home at the time. So, next time, I'm going to call before I come home. You two are adults in a loving relationship. You deserve your privacy, and I have to respect it.”

For the first time during this entire conversation, a genuine smile forms on Kurt's face. “Thanks, Dad.” Suddenly, his grin morphs into a curious quirk of the lips. “Wait, earlier you said that you'd suspected this for a while now.”

“Well, a couple of months ago, Carole saw an empty box of strawberry-flavoured condoms in the garbage can in the bathroom. She'd said that she didn't know if they belonged to you or Finn – or Sam, for that matter, but he's never really seemed that serious about anyone – but Carole said that her money was on you.”

He laughs. “Actually, she's wrong,” he says, smiling. “Blaine hates the strawberry-flavoured ones. He says that they taste like medicine.” He suddenly seems to realize who he's actually talking to, and it's clear from his expression that he isn't sure if he'd been oversharing. “Uh,” he stutters.

You just laugh. Kurt's expression relaxes, and his quiet but relieved laugh joins yours.

At that moment, the two of you hear the front door open, and the boys come in. Finn and Sam call out their greetings to Kurt before plopping themselves down in front of the TV.

Then Blaine enters the kitchen. “Hi, Burt,” he says to you. He looks surprised to see you, but he's smiling nonetheless. “Hi, Kurt.” He bends down to give Kurt a quick kiss. Then he turns back to you. “Before I forget, I just wanted to let you know that I think I have some papers that belong to you. I just found them mixed in with my math homework from last week. I was doing my homework on the coffee table while Kurt and Carole were making dinner, and I must have scooped them up by accident.” He winces. “I'm so sorry -”

You wave a hand at him. “Don't worry about it,” you assure him, clapping him lightly on the back as you stand up. “Just give them to me later, kid.” You pick up your bottle of beer. “I'm just going to let Finn and Sam know that I'm back.”

Kurt stands up as well. “Blaine and I are going to get started on dinner,” he says. Then he leans over and gives you a a quick hug. “I'm glad you're here, Dad,” he says softly.

“Me too, kid,” you say.

As you make your way over to the living room, you hear snippets of Kurt and Blaine's conversation from behind you.

“Are you actually going to let me help this time?”

A snort. “Not a chance.”

“Oh, come on. I've gotten better, I swear! Remember those pancakes that I made the other day?”

“You made one pancake, Blaine. One. And it was brown and tasted like toasted rubber. But I suppose it is an improvement over the last batch, considering that your previous attempt turned completely black and had the consistency of Hagrid's rock cakes.”

“I bet I've improved over the last two days!”

“You bet? Really?”

“...What do I get if I win?”

“Don't you mean, what do _you_ get when _I_ win?”

You glance over your shoulder and see Kurt and Blaine leaning in for another kiss. You walk away, smiling to yourself as you make your way to the couch to greet the other boys.

 


End file.
